


Running With Cats

by HaleHole (SweetFanfics)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cats, F/M, M/M, Pets, where the pack adopts a bunch of kittens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-31
Updated: 2013-07-31
Packaged: 2017-12-22 00:15:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/906643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetFanfics/pseuds/HaleHole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I am not mad about the cats not liking me."</p><p>Waving the words away like he was trying to get some irritating fly out of his face, Stiles replied. “Yeah <i>right<i>. I <i>saw<i> you when you tried to pick one of em up and it hissed at you. The only time you make that face is when you wake up, come down for breakfast and the Fruit Loops box is empty."</i></i></i></i></p><p>Derek wanted to deny it, it was written all over his face. Stiles wanted to bounce in glee, (oh hell screw it, he bounced on his heels anyways), wondering just how far he would manage to push his luck with the Alpha this time. <i>‘Let him crack, let him crack, let him crack like an egg for brownies.’<i> He chanted inside his head, keeping a wary eye on the hands that seemed two seconds away from sprouting claws. </i></i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Running With Cats

**Author's Note:**

> For Brii <3

Stiles surrendered. He waved the metaphoric white flag. He gave in to the urge that had started bubbling up the second Derek had made that pinched, pouty, childishly sulky face at being rejected. And the second his resolve cracked, a stream of laughter bubbled out of his mouth and made Stiles double into himself.  
  


Just out of the corner of his eyes, he managed to catch sight of the rest of the pack (plus their esteemed, grumpy leader) giving him a curious look. The sight of Derek’s clearly put out but trying so hard not to show it expression only served to worsen his condition.  
  


"I’d say that he’s lost it," Jackson began, ignoring the gray tabby kitten that was happily attempting to jump up on his head from his shoulders. “But I never thought he  _had it_  in the first place."  
  


Someone muttered ‘Rude’ but generally, it seemed like the others were in agreement with Jackson. Not that Stiles could blame them cause see, if it were him and he saw one of his friends just randomly start laughing until their stomach started to hurt, he’d think that they’d gone cuckoo too. But still, it was a _little_ insulting that they would think that he’d never had his marbles in the first place.   
  


Even then, he couldn’t stop himself from laughing.  
  


"Y-your face!" Stiles finally managed to croak out in a wheezy tone, coughing at the end as he held a finger up towards Derek.   
  


That made everyone turn to look at Derek, curious as to what about the alpha’s face was so damned funny. The dark haired wolf stood across the room, doing his best to look unruffled, unamused and definetely  _not_  unhappy when he snapped, “What  _about_  my face?" Stiles was surprised that he wasn't on the received end of a threat involving Derek’s teeth at this point.   
  


That brought about a new fit of giggles that made Lydia quietly ask, “Did someone slip him something?" The ginger cat in her lap meowed loudly.  
  


Stiles waved her concern away, bracing himself by placing both of his hands on his knees before wheezing. Nothing like a good hard laugh to completely ruin your breathing for a few minutes. “You look so totally…" Here he waved a hand, looking for the right word and coming in short. “You look like someone kicked your puppy!"  
  


Bad example? Most likely. Appropriate however? Very much so. But his present company clearly hadn’t found his words amusing either. Except Lydia, bless her. Boo to everyone else. Stiles took in a deep breath before standing up tall and pointing a finger at Derek. “You’re sad that the kittens don’t like you!"  
  


"He is not!" Scott scoffed, pausing mid-way his playful study of trying to determine just how soft and squishy kitten paws could be. The black kitten took the whole 'being held up Allison and examination by Scott' with great enthusiasm, trying to lick whose ever fingers came close to its mouth while wriggling around in Allison's hands.   
  


Stiles simply gestured a little more wildly at Derek. “He _so_ is! _That_  is the face of a guy who is _totally_  sad about not getting kitten love! It's the face of someone who wants kitten love and doesn't know how to get it!" The litter that they had found half way during the training session mowed obligingly, tripping over themselves as they played with the pack members. “Besides, look at his ears."   
  


The sudden scrunity did little to Derek’s poker face. It was, Stiles mused, a bit like staring at a brick wall. Except that a brick wall probably had a lot more cracks in it. Maybe a wall of concrete or something that didn’t have any cracks in it and was rock hard. A titanium door, that might work.   
  


A sudden, vicious sense of glee filled him when Derek’s ears went from pale pink to flat out red. It made Stiles crow and jump forward with a triumphant. “I rest my case!"  
  


"Does he have a death wish?" Isaac asked Erica in a stage whisper, trying to lure the calico kitten into his lap with the string of his hoodie. The girl shook her head, picking the feline up and depositing it into Isaac’s happy hands, who immediately began to coo at it.  
  


Stiles gave Derek a wary look, cheeky smile still in place despite the reminder that he might be badly hurt for his sass. “Lemme guess," He drawled as Derek's glare deepened. " You’re gonna rip my spine out or something? Through my nose? Or hey, look! A handy wall to smack my head into!" He may or may not have made jazz hands at the wall in question.  
  


Scott was shaking his head, mumbling something about a death wish as well. Allison was peacefully smiling at her boyfriend. She was an angel. Stiles hoped that hsi best friend knew how lucky he was to have her as his girlfriend. “Stiles." Derek’s growl pulled him away from his musings. “I am not mad about the cats not liking me."  
  


Waving the words away like he was trying to get some irritating fly out of his face, Stiles replied. “Yeah _right_. I _saw_ you when you tried to pick one of em up and it hissed at you. The only time you make that face is when you wake up, come down for breakfast and the Fruit Loops box is empty."  
  


Derek wanted to deny it, it was written all over his face. Stiles wanted to bounce in glee, (oh hell screw it, he bounced on his heels anyways), wondering just how far he would manage to push his luck with the Alpha this time.  _‘Let him crack, let him crack, let him crack like an egg for brownies.’_  He chanted inside his head, keeping a wary eye on the hands that seemed two seconds away from sprouting claws.   
  


The crack turned out to be a tiny muscle twitch beside Derek’s eyes before he muttered, “They don’t like me." Stiles was severely,  _severely_  tempted to crow just at the fact that he had just managed to wriggle his way through Derek Hale, alpha wolf, resident Mr.Grumpypants’s glare-o-doom unscathed (and unpushed into a hard surface) but the sulky tone in which the man had made his confession made Stiles post-pone his celebrations.  
  


Never let it be said that he didn’t control himself, thank you very damned much. “It’s okay, big guy!" Stiles offered, patting Derek’s arm before grabbing hold of a firm bicep and dragging Derek forward towards the pack. “Just call me your Dr. Dolittle."  
  


"Dr.who?" Derek asked, completely perplexed and 100% digging his heels as subtly as he possibly could into the floor. Psh, like _that_ was going to help. The guy was wearing socks and the floor was waxed. Resistance was futile, Derek Hale. Honestly, why was this man so utterly stubborn? When was he going to learn that there was no saving one self from Hurricane Stiles? Just ask the rest of the gang.  
  


"Note to self, give you a complete cultural education first chance we get." Stiles declared grimly, pushing Derek down between Danny and Boyd.  
  


—  
  


"I regret my decision." Stiles groaned from his spot in the cuddle pile a.k.a we’re too damn tired to go back to our rooms so we’re just gonna crash on the floor. He made a face when he felt one set of paws clamber over his stomach while another kitten tried to use his face as the floor.   
  


The tiny pin pricks of pain on his face told him that  _someone_ had forgotten to clip the kitten’s nails. He was so going to get Scott for that. Right as he opened his mouth to ask Scott why exactly hadn’t he done the task that had been assigned to him over a week ago, Stiles found the air in his lungs being pushed out when a third kitten hopped on his stomach and crawled into Derek’s already full arms. “Uumph!"  
  


"Wuh?" Scott asked sleepily, head rising up from it’s resting position that was Allison’s lap. “W’t happen’d?"  
  


Stiles wanted to groan at his own brilliance and skills. Sure, he’d managed to get the kittens to accept the growling wolf as a non-threat but God _dammit_ , that didn’t mean that he had wanted him to become their _favorite!_ “I’m too damn talented for my own good." He complained to the coffee table. The table stoicly stared back.  
  


There was a heavier groan from the body next to him. Stiles took a certain amount of pleasure from the fact that Derek also sounded like he regretted his decision. “Alright, alright." The alpha complained in a sleep roughened voice. “I’ll get you your food."  
  


"You’re such a good provider." Stiles teased, yelping when he felt two fingers pinch his arm. He looked down at his arm before following the hand that had caused him pain. Lydia glared at him from her perch on the sofa before grumbling at him to shut the hell up at ‘this insane hour’. Insane hour? Stiles, eyed the curtains and determined from their pale blue tone that the hour was quite-early o’clock. Possibly even way-too-fucking-early-to-even-be-up o'clock. “Fucking cats." He complained, turning over on his side with a blanket corner in hand.

 

Why did those little devils always wake him up at some pre-dawn hour? He wasn’t their mommy or anything! But nooo, they’d always come to him first - meowing around his head for food before growing impatient and nipping on his toes or fingertips (and one time, his nose!  _NOSE_!) They’d never went to Derek or  _anyone else in the whole damn house_. It was  _always_ Stiles.  
  


"You were the one who wanted to keep them." Scott reminded him in a dreamy tone.  
  


"Thus my regret." Stiles grumbled.  
  


—  
  


" _Who_ keeps over feeding them?!" Stiles yelled, trying not to let out loud, disgusted noises at the fact that he had just accidentally stepped into a puddle of what was clearly, regurgitated cat food. “I’ve told you guys a million times to  _not_ give em too much food!"  
  


"Gross gross gross, this is so fucking gross." He complained under his breath, delicately slipping his dirty sock off while vainly attempting not to think about the horrible squishy sensations that he had just experienced. Not to mention the smell that was-  
  


Nausea cheerily made itself known, making Stiles hurridly slap a hand over his mouth and hurry to get rid of his socks. Holding the offending item of clothing as far out of reach as possible, Stiles walked into the living room and said, “Seriously guys, you can’t keep over feeding them. If I walk into one more puke puddle, I’m gonna puke too." No one paid him more attention than a single cursory glance before going back to their tasks.  
  


"Stop saying puke, it’s disgusting." Lydia chided him, blowing on her nails to help them dry while Allison carefully worked on the second hand. Stiles took a brief second to wonder how Lydia, not to mention the other non-human people in the room, were bearing the scent of nail polish in the room. He could smell it a mile away and it made his nose want to curl up, drop to the floor and run away into the woods screaming for mercy.  
  


"I’m not the one over feeding them." Isaac offered, leaning into the tv screen, fingers flying furiously over the controller in his hands. Jackson, Danny and Scott offered similiar sentences, coupled with a few choice curses and threats and lots of button mashing.   
  


Stiles turned his gaze onto to Derek, waiting for what was clearly going to be a denial as well. The man was sitting in his recliner, feet propped up and a book cracked open in his lap, happily ignoring the noise around him and the kitten curled up in his lap. Some days he thought that Derek had some magical sound cancelling abilities that were limited to his own ears. Others, he thought that Derek did it just to look cool. The jury was out on which seemed more likely. “Don’t look at me." He commented, not even looking up at Stiles questioning look. “You said one cup a day and that’s all I give them."  
  


His shoulders slumped, a confused frown twisting his lips down. If Derek was clearly taking care of the proportions then why… His eyes snapped towards the sofa, wondering why Scott was suddenly hunching into himself like he wanted too hide. Stiles stepped up behind the teen, placing both hands on Scott’s shoulder ( _after_ dropping the sock down, thank you very much!) and asked sternly, “Spill."  
  


"Spill what?" Scott asked innocently, giving his best friend a trembling smile and completely missing how Danny had just fragged his player. That man’s precision in Halo was … scary. There were no other words for it. “I haven’t got anything to spill."  
  


Stiles simply stared Scott down, knowing that no way would be faster than silently telegraphing the simple message ‘I know you know something about this so you’d better tell me before I show Allison your porn collection or worse.’ Scott collapsed like a house of cards (' _Still got it'_ , Stiles thought to himself _)_  slouching in his seat before mumbling, “I’ve been giving them a cup a day too."  
  


He had to close his eyes. Stiles just had too. He  _had_ to close his eyes and count to ten because _of course_. Of all the cliched misunderstandings, it just had to be this one. “Me too actually." Isaac admitted sheepishly.  
  


"I mighta been doing that too." Jackson grumpily added his two cents.  
  


“ _All_ of you are on cat puke duty." Stiles declared, bending down to pick up the discarded sock. “You too, Derek." He pointed at the alpha, who was trying to hide his smirk behind his book. As if it could hide him or save him from Stiles’ righteous anger. “Cat puke and laundry duty!"  
  


"You suck." Scott complained, yelling in agitation as Danny fragged his character again. “You suck too!"  
  


"Stating the obvious McCall." Danny smirked.  
  


—  
  


Stiles poked his head into the kitchen, along with Allison and Danny. “You rang?" He chirped, wondering why Isaac had called them into the kitchen.  
  


The teen excitedly waved them in, ignoring the way the litter of kittens was excitedly moving around his legs. “Check this out!" The trio watched Isaac hold up a small piece of tuna between his fingers and click his tongue to get the feline's attention.  
  


Not entirely sure of what was supposed to happen, Stiles eyed the calico suddenly crouching down on the ground. It did a butt wriggle which always meant that it was going to pounce or- “Holy shit!" He laughed when the kitten pounced on Isaac’s leg, using the clothed limb as a climbing pole to crawl-claw its way up to the teen’s shoulder before accepting the piece of meat Isaac offered it.  
  


"How’d you teach Cali to do that?" Stiles asked, taking care not to step on any of the cats as he stepped forward. Allison moved with him, scooping up Ink and hugging him to herself. Danny picked up the ginger Jinx and the tabby Baron, putting the smaller, fluffier Jinx on his shoulder before hefting Baron up against his chest.  
  


He had to take a moment to sigh over the kitten’s names, for possibly the 100th time in 2 months. Stiles still wasn’t over the fact that he hadn’t been allowed to name the kittens after Star Wars characters. The orange one would make an awesome Leia. But nooo, they  _had_ to decide, that for the sake of peace, four people would be selected by pulling names out of a hat and they would name a kitten each.  
  


Lydia named the fluffy ginger cat Jinx, for reasons unknown. Scott, this was almost predictable, named the black cat Ink (Stiles was still grateful that Scott hadn’t picked ‘Blackie’ or something. Like Duck. He wasn’t beyond it. Purely because his best friend liked Constantine's movie _a lot_.) Boyd had declared the pretty calico to be Cali (Stiles had been groaning into a pillow at that point). And Derek rounded the group up by deciding that the tabby would be Baron. ("Why  _Baron_?" Stiles had exclaimed. " _Baron?_  WHY?")  
  


Isaac offered some of the tuna to Allison, waiting for Stiles to take Baron out of Danny’s hands before offering the two teenage boy’s some of the fish as well. “I didn’t. She just did it on her own." Isaac explained, offering Cali another small piece of tuna.  
  


Stiles held Baron up in front of him, trying to make the hyper cat meet his eyes before asking in a solemn voice. “Since when are you guys part monkey? Who taught you that trick, huh? Care to share?" Disinterested green eyes blinked at him before turning around towards the source of the tuna smell. "Thank you for your input." Stiles sighed, holding the kitten up against his chest before holding his hand out for some more of the fish. “If it wasn’t you, where’d they learn it from?"

 

It was sheer coincidence that Stiles got his answer because Derek chose that exact moment to step in from the back entrance. Which made all the kitten meow happily and squirm out of the hold of whoever was holding them, running forward to climb Derek like he was a tree.  
  


The small group blinked in amusement at the sight of their resident big bad wolf holding 4 kittens in his arms, trying to prevent them from climbing up on his shoulder and head. “I guess we just met Yoda?" Stiles asked no one in particular.  
  


—  
  


"I love cats." Stiles hummed happily, wriggling happily under the sheets but carefully so as to not dislodge the cats that were curled around him.  
  


Derek grunted in amusement, nuzzling Stiles hair before asking, “Weren’t you the one complaining about not wanting them in bed just a few months ago?"  
  


If he wasn’t so warm and cozy, Stiles would have glared back. But warm and cozy he was while snuggling with his boyfriend, so he hummed softly against a hard pectoral instead. “Yeah but that was summers. They’re _awesome_ in winters."  
  


There were a few moments of silence in which Stiles heard a wheezy little snore that was characteristic of Jinx’s deep slumber. The peaceful sound was overshadowed by Derek’s amused voice as he asked again, “Weren’t you complaining a few nights ago when they-"  
  


"Don’t even start." Stiles warning, finally poking his head out from under the heavy quilt to give the older man a scathing look. “That was totally justified alright! There is nothing  _good_ about a bunch of cats coming into the room when you’re in the middle of having sex with your boyfriend. There just _isn’t_."  
  


Derek simply snorted and Jinx let out another wheezy snore.  
  


—  
  


It took a few seconds of staring to realize that he wasn’t seeing things. Which helped because otherwise Stiles would have realized that he was dreaming and this would have been a highly strange albiet domestic dream. “You’ve got a cat on your shoulder." He pointed out sleepily, squinting as he did so.  
  


Derek didn’t turn away from the stove, keeping an eye on the sizzling bacon instead of the full grown cat perched on his shoulder like it was pretending to be a damned parrot. “Coffee’s on the pot." He said instead, nodding towards the machine.  
  


"I _love_  you." Stiles declared fervently, making a beeline for the coffee machine and pouring himself a hot cup. Some sugar and cream later, Stiles leaned back against the counter, moving over once Erica and Boyd stumbled in so that the couple could grab their mugs and pour some coffe for themselves as well.  
  


He waited for either of them to point out that Derek should  _not_ be keeping Ink on his shoulder like some kind of weird mascot. Or a witch wanna be. But the pair quietly sat down on the barstools and leaned on the counter, nursing their coffee and nibbling on toast. “No one’s gonna point out the obvious?" Stiles finally asked.  
  


"Too early for your brain," Erica mumble-complained into a piece of toast. She broke off another piece and held it out for Cali to take before offering a second and third one to Jinx and Baron. Boyd ignored him. Or maybe he was just being Boyd and mature but choosing to ignore the pink elephant, or in this case, the cat on the shoulder.   
  


Stiles tapped his fingers against the side of his cup, meeting Ink’s curious gaze before giving in. “What’s with the cat, Derek? Seriously? It’s a  _cat_ , not a parrot. Cat’s aren’t supposed to be sitting on your shoulders like that! They’re felines! The only animals you can keep on your shoulder and look sorta normal is a parrot or a vulture."  
  


That made Boyd give him a weird look. He purposefully ignored Erica grumbling into her mug. “Is this some weird childhood thing where you wanted to be a pirate but your parents never let you have one so you’re using Ink as a substitute because he's the closest thing to a parrot?"  
  


Derek ignored Stiles' ramblings, focused on plating the bacon and holding it out for Boyd to take. After he had done so, he met Stiles gaze and gave him the driest look ever. “Eat first, ramble later." Ink stared serenely at Stiles, tail swishing gently against Derek's shoulder.   
  


"It’s a legitimate question." Stiles grumbled, sitting down anyways because bacon, yum! Ink yawned lazily, showing off his teeth before rubbing his face against Derek’s stubble with a purr. “Never shoulda helped you get friendly with them." Stiles grumbled into his plate, trying hard not to smile when Derek gave his hair a fond ruffle.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://chaoticwaltz.tumblr.com)


End file.
